


Morning Light

by Mianmaru



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV John Watson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Sex, where cocks lead the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mianmaru/pseuds/Mianmaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deep moans coming from Sherlock mixed with the sound of rustling sheets and John’s own laboured breath fill the air around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Light

People make plans and struggle with decisions. Entire lives are envisioned and timed and chances are missed by those who fail to act spontaneously. But it’s not the decisions we make. It’s not the plans we follow or the rules we stick to. The most important changes in life just happen. When we act out of a sudden urge or an unexpected chance arises right in front of us and then all we can do is hold on tight and see where we are swept.

 

~*~

  
  


Soft. So soft. The pressure against his cock is pleasant if just barely noticeable. John licks his lips before sinking his teeth into the bottom one while he relishes the slight drag of fabric on sensitive skin. Everything’s still a bit fuzzy around the edges and the warmth he seems to be cocooned in does nothing to diminish the early morning haziness. His eyelids are still somewhat heavy but slowly, oh so slowly, John finds his way into reality again. He concentrates on the feeling of expensive silk under the right side of is face and wriggles his toes to confirm that his feet are sticking out from under the blanket. Sunlight has  to be filling the room from what John can discern without opening his eyes.The way it falls onto his face tells him also that this is not his room. He has to rummage through his mind to remember that he is in a hotel room in Kent. A hotel room he wouldn’t be able to afford in a hundred years wasn’t it for Sherlock insisting their client should pay for their lodgings during this highly unspectacular case. And Mrs. Westenra was very willing to do so if they’d just help her. So she did book a room for them. One room.

 

John’s eyes are suddenly wide open and what he see’s is exactly what he was afraid of. With a slight addition. He knew he would be seeing Sherlock but not in this… nakedness. With shocked detachment he observes the pale skin and firm bottom. The minimal movement of said bottom against his morning erection. Notices the fact that Sherlock’s marginal movements never seem to go as far as to break the physical contact between them. Panicking, John’s final observation is the way Sherlock’s wrist is moving where his hand disappears behind a hip bone that is blocking John’s view.

 

Before he can think about it, John grabs the milky skin at Sherlock’s waist and sinks his fingers hard into it. Instantly, the lean body in front of im freezes. It’s a split-second in which John’s mind runs through possible scenarios. 

One a fight including anger and yelling and defensive silence and awkwardness and missed chances and regret. 

Before there is even a conscious decision made, John’s gaze comes to rest on Sherlock’s back. On all the scars that weren’t there 3 years ago. The small moles between two way too prominent shoulder blades that look so much like a constellation of stars. And finally the goose bumps spreading from the short hairs now standing on end in Sherlock’s long neck.

 

John let’s his right hand glide up over the bony spine and curls it over Sherlock’s shoulder. His left still resting on the detective’s waist, he deliberately rolls his hips forward while effectively holding Sherlock in place. John more feels than sees the full body shudder overcoming the man in front of him. He can’t do anything else than repeat the motion adding more pressure. Briefly, John’s eyes close as he watches Sherlock’s forearm move to hesitantly resume his earlier action and hears the relieved sigh accompanying it all.

 

Closing his eyes helps, though. It almost makes him forget how horribly wrong this could go considering…

Well, considering what they are getting themselves into just now. 

But right this instant, this very second, John wouldn’t be willing or able to stop rubbing against Sherlock’s plush arse. His hand clenches rhythmically around the flesh he holds on to as he ups the pace of his thrusts. The head of his cock slipping between Sherlock’s cheeks makes his mind spin with ideas that John is not going to go through with but feed his desire nonetheless. The deep moans coming from Sherlock mixed with the sound of rustling sheets and John’s own laboured breath fill the air around them. Sweat is making it increasingly difficult to not slip where their skin touches and lets John’s pants stick uncomfortably to his sensitive arousal. 

 

Unthinkingly, the doctor takes his hands off of Sherlock and frees his cock from it’s confines, pushing the offensive fabric to the side. Immediately, he pushes forward again, the sudden skin on skin contact making them both gasp. At once, everything feels fantastically intense and John congratulates himself inwardly on the idea but has no time to dwell on it. Sherlock is moaning constantly now. His hand moving fast and hard and John hates that he can’t really see because he wants to. He really wants to. He needs to know what Sherlock looks like. Not only his cock. Everything. It’s all John can think about as he pulls that slim body closer, tilting it just enough so he can watch while still thrusting and thrusting his hard cock against delicate skin.

What he hasn’t accounted for is that Sherlock might look at him with a flush on his cheekbones, unruly hair and teeth sunken deep into his bottom lip. Fleetingly, their gazes meet before grey eyes are pressed tightly close and John feels Sherlock’s body go rigid under his grip. The long torso raising from the bed as the consulting detective spends himself onto his hand and stomach.

This is it, John thinks distantly before he completely loses himself to the pleasure and pushes desperately against Sherlock’s thigh. He doesn’t care anymore where his cock gets the friction from. His head is filled with an endless repetition of Sherlock’s face, cock, arse. 

As his orgasm crushes down on him, he is faintly aware of his teeth sinking into the overheated skin on Sherlock’s chest.

 

The afterglow won’t really set in as John comes slowly to his senses and even though he feels Sherlock gradually doze off where he is lying on his side, John’s heart rate doesn’t go down the way it should. Lying perfectly still, he feels his skin sticking to Sherlock’s in a not entirely unpleasant way where they are still touching. Birds are chirping in the box tree outside their window while John wonders if he would be able to convince Sherlock that he had had a wet dream. Maybe even that he was asleep during all of this.

 

He still hasn’t any idea what is probably going to happen when Sherlock wakes up but he knows he’s not just going to lie there while his come slowly glues him to Sherlock’s thigh. With purpose, he shimmies downwards and off the bed to the adjoining bathroom for a shower. 

For some reason, John finds Sherlock annoyingly attractive as he spares him a longing glance on the way.

 

~*~

 

To be honest, of course John had seen this coming years ago. Not in a “it’s-gonna-happen”- way but in a “I’m-pretty-sure-I’m-not-just-imagining-things”- way. He was clever enough to question his infatuation with the madman after his first few blog entries and the million times people had just assumed they were shagging. He knew his stories were dripping with admiration, especially in the beginning. He also knew that he was often times way to eager to please Sherlock with good deductions at crime scenes and had made more than one morally questionable decision during their close acquaintance.

Damn it! He even knew that he would have given up everything if Sherlock had had told him about faking his death and travelling god-knows-where. 

 

Groaning, John rests his head against the tiled shower wall as he feels the hot water run down his neck and shoulders. Now is probably as good a time as any to… Do whatever they are gonna do now. Good or bad.

 

The sticky mess between his legs is not fully washed off his skin when John hears the bathroom door close. The tall shadow he can see through the opal glass pane of the shower cubicle is standing stock still.

 

“What?” He presses out between his teeth. Can’t he even finish his shower before they have to talk about this?

 

“John, I’m sorry. I know that was more than a bit not good.” Sherlock says without a hint of sincerity tinging his voice.

 

John can’t stop himself from opening the shower cubicle door and sticking his head out to look at the naked threat for his sanity before answering “No, you are not.”.

Sherlock has the decency to suppress the obvious smirk that his trying to take over his features. His torso is still covered in his own come but his whole bearing is smug.

 

And really, John doesn’t want to talk about THIS. If there is one thing he’s really good at it’s to _ just roll with it _  A heartbeat later the decision is made.

 

Without giving himself time to wimp out, he steps back under the spray of the shower pointedly not closing the cubicle door.

 

“You look scruffy. I think you need a shower, too.”

 

~*~

Talking. Not something they do very often. Especially when it concerns emotions. So it’s not surprising that John’s invitation is enough to settle things between them. 

John doesn’t need I-Love-You’s or How-Do-You-Feel’s. 

  
John needs Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea and wanted to write it down. Maybe I shouldn't have done so immediately but I did. Hope it's not horrible. It's definitely unbetaed, though.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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